Like a Sister

lilymione1203

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 09/10/2009
Last Updated: 09/10/2009
Status: completed

ONE-SHOT. Harry's pov. Takes place during "The Silver Doe" chapter of DH. This would def call for a rewrite of the ending!!

Chapters

1. ONE-SHOT

1. ONE-SHOT

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its subsidiaries.

A/N: This is how I REALLY wish it happened in Deathly Hallows, but it doesn’t : ( That’s why we have fanfiction, right? Anyway, I hope you like this- it’s Harry’s pov and takes place during “The Silver Doe” chapter of DH. If you’re up on HP you’ll know what goes down! : )

LIKE A SISTER

Why did I say that? Why? I know we’ve been rather stressed lately, gunning down Voldemort and all, searching for the lurid remnants containing his tainted soul, but of all the things to go awry, why did it have to be this?

I sat with my head buried in my hands, several meters away from the ‘blessed’ reunion surely taking place behind me, in that foul-smelling tent we’ve somehow been surviving in. I watched a toad hop along the scattered grass, thudding briefly on the dirt with each passing leap, crickets chirping all around us.

‘Us’- as if the toad and I made a pair. I suppose that’s not too far from the truth, considering what tumbled out of my mouth about fifteen minutes ago, and the events taking place currently. God, I’m so stupid. But I suppose I would’ve said anything to keep from dying, at this point anyway. Harry Potter, ‘The Boy Who Lived’- until he drowned in a god-forsaken lake in the middle of an unknown forest. Who was he again?

I continued to watch the speckled amphibian, brown spots the same color as her sparkling eyes. Why did I say it?? I couldn’t get away from it- the image kept replaying over and over in my mind, haunting me to the point of insanity. I have no idea why I chose those words, I could have picked from over 450,000- why those three?

I crumpled my hands in my hair, black tufts flopping all over the place as I took out my frustration. I suppose it’s not my hair’s fault, just the brain that may or may not reside beneath it. I continued to watch the lonely toad, almost completely hidden by the menacing weeds towering above it.

I rested my cheek on the upturned palm of my hand, my elbow having jammed itself on my propped up knee. It felt as if a broken record was planted in my ears, spitting out the same sorry tune for an eternity, forcing me to listen with no relief in sight.

I couldn’t get the image out of my head, so I simply allowed it to ferment- frothing and bubbling in my brain like one of Neville’s fortuitous concoctions. Staring blankly at the candid log beside me, I lost myself in thought- tumbling backward in time to relive the moment that quite possibly changed my life forever:

I felt the icy waters envelop my body as I dove for the glinting sword below. I forcefully retrieved it as my body screamed in pain, longing to return to the beckoning surface. I rushed to the crackled opening, jagged blocks of ice separated just far enough for my escape, when I could no longer move.

The pressure exerted on my body was far too much to bear, and I realized I was going to drown. Out of nowhere a hand grabbed the scruff of my neck, violently pulling me from an icy grave and shoving me onto to the solid surface. It was Ron.

We briefly exchanged awkward hellos as I welcomed him back to our dwindling party, mindlessly wandering the mysterious forest for weeks on end. Having tracked down the sinister locket at hand, Ron and I sought to destroy the beast within, opening the clasp to reveal a miniature version of Hermione and myself.

I watched in silent horror as ‘we’ taunted Ron with malice, berating his existence as an ample human being. The poor bloke sat there stunned, eyes wide with shock and anger, blue eyes blinking in incredulity. I shouted at him to destroy it, to which he eventually obliged, and I observed his bewildered features, staring blankly at the ruined object.

Then I said the words that bane my mere existence, tormenting me with every breath I take:

“After you left, she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…”

None of this was true. I’m sure she cried some, didn’t all girls? But I don’t think it was over him. We held a conversation every evening before dreams plagued our sated minds, listening to the crickets chirp around us or an owl hoot overhead. Some nights I even held her tiny hand, intertwining our fingers as we drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a better tomorrow.

“She’s like my sister. I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It’s always been like that. I thought you knew.”

And that’s what did it. It was like another person inhabited my body and spoke through my glacial form, the words stinging at my lips with every syllable. So, here I am, sitting on this rutted log outside our filthy excuse for a home, cursing myself to pieces over words I couldn’t contain.

I’m sure they’re in there now, snogging each other senseless, creating enough steam to fog the windows we aren’t fortunate enough to possess. All the while I’m out here with this toad I can’t even find anymore. Why do I care about the stupid toad?

It’s rather a lot like that old muggle movie, you know the one? Dudley had every movie, game, and action figure, buried beneath a pile of other state-of-the-art possessions, never even bothering to properly display them. Bumbling git.

I remember watching it for the first time on his brand new telly, my eyes glued to the screen in mystified wonder as I watched the story unfold. Star Wars. I was just a tot when the final film debuted, and it had me completely mesmerized.

The trilogy was so unlike anything I had ever seen- the drama, the action, the romance. Little did I know it was very similar to what my life would soon become, an uncanny parallel to what I’m experiencing now.

I would play the role of Luke, the jedi destined to save the galaxy from sheer and utter peril; even Vader and Voldermort sound alike. How dashing. Then there’s Ron Solo, the barmy pilot that deserts his friends to go off on his own, only to return and sweep the princess off her feet- just like he’s doing now.

I tried to ignore the noises coming from the tent, shuttering quickly as I pushed the graphic thoughts out of my mind. The vivid image of them shagging on my sleeping bag keeps creeping into my brain when I’m not looking.

But I suppose whatever happens is my own stupid fault. I told him she was ‘like a sister’ to me, so I’ll have to live with the consequences. I feel so dirty for saying it, like a layer of grime has settled on my skin and there’s nothing I can do to get it off.

I think of all the things I’ve surrendered to him- her chocolate brown eyes that twinkle in the moonlight, her smile that lights up the darkest room. Her intoxicating scent of lavender and daffodils, muddled with fresh parchment and color-changing ink. The dimple that appears when she tries to conceal a smirk at my misfortune, or the look in her eyes when she’s studying my scar, right before she traces it with her supple fingertips.

Her button nose that scrunches when she disapproves of something, and the slender brow she arches when she’s questioning my motives. The way she rolls her eyes when Ron and I say something unintelligent, or the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s writing a lengthy essay.

I’ll miss the way her hair falls in her face, the light brown locks I long to tuck behind her tiny ears. Her slender form that beautifully fills out her robes, beckoning for me to see what’s underneath them. Even the way she butters her toast in the morning, always left to right with equal amounts of butter on both sides of the bread.

I can’t take it anymore. I’m not going to stand for this. Hermione is not my sister, she is my lover.

I bolted up from my expensive armchair and stormed the lurid tent, not caring what I was about to walk in on. I threw open the fastened canvas and thrust myself inside, my eyes burning with unrequited anger. I opened my mouth to speak but held my breath instead, absorbing the scene before me.

Ron was knocked out cold on the dusty ground below, his face bonded to the dirt. I looked over at Hermione, who was sitting with arms crossed on her cot, pursing her lips as she looked me over.

“What happened in here?”

“I wondered where you ran off to. And to think, I was trying to be a good ‘housewitch’ and have a hot meal on the table for you when you returned, beaming like an idiot as I bustled for you dinner, ready to fling my arms around you as you clambered through the door, when that idiot comes waltzing in here instead. Were you just trying to give me a heart attack, or was this some form of a joke?”

My mouth was agape at this point, my brows furrowed in confusion as I tried to process what she had said, “Er…”

“Like a sister, eh? Really, Harry? Would a sister do this-“ and she crossed the room with a sultry swagger, carefully stepping over Ron, and made her way towards me, locking her gaze with mine.

I watched as she crept closer- I could feel her breath on my neck as she rose on the balls of her feet, inching towards my rapidly blinking eyelashes. My breathing became heavy and I could feel my heart pound against my ribcage, longing to free itself from my quivering body.

Her lips met mine and my world simply melted, a torrent of butterflies coursing through my veins with each passing second of indescribable bliss. I could have taken on Voldemort right there and then- hell, I didn’t even need a wand.

I tangled my fingers in the mane of chestnut curls that flowed down her back, my other hand sweeping the delicate curves of her body. Her hands were wrapped around my neck, her fingers dancing on my collar as she enveloped my mouth in hers.

Out tongues writhed against one another, fighting for dominance within our suctioned mouths, her pouty lips pressing against mine with uncontrollable vigor. I heard her moan against me and I pulled even closer, feeling the passion flowing between us and never wanting it to end.

But it did.

Smiling and breathless, we slowly pulled apart, and I saw the twinkle in her eyes so brown. She led me to her cot and we both sat down, neither of us daring to break the other’s gaze.

“He saved my life, you know,” I said quietly, nodding my head towards an unconscious Ron, lying stock-still on the floor.

“He told me. And it was very brave, I suppose,” she added quickly, pursing her lips, “I really am impressed with Ron’s achievements today, Harry, but not nearly as much as I am with yours. You don’t really see me as a sister do you?” she asked, her brown eyes filled with sorrow.

I cupped her chin in my hand, turning her gaze from Ron to my own, and stared deeply into her eyes, “Hermione, I have never loved you like a sister, I know you don’t ‘feel the same way about me,’ and I should be in Ron’s place right now for even suggesting it.”

And Hermione launched her petite body on to mine, my only view a mess of russet tresses bouncing madly about our faces. She kissed me with even more passion than before, which I deemed wasn’t highly possible, and we held each other for what seemed like hours- not a sister-like embrace, but a symbol of true love.

A/N: Well, what did you think? I really enjoyed writing this; I imagined that this is what transpired in “The Silver Doe,” and not what actually followed. Please read and review, I’d really appreciate it!!

lilymione1203